Sunday
by ultraclutch
Summary: Sunday was supposed to be the day of rest, but all Corny felt was restlessness. Corny-centric.


**Just a Corny oneshot, not 100 pleased with the way it turned out but, whatever! Rated M for minor sexual content!**

**Disclaimer - I do not own Hairspray, Corny, or any of the other characters! **

Sunday was supposed to be the day of rest, but for Corny Collins it was nothing more than an inconvenience. It was the only day that he wasn't required to get up and get dressed. The only day he wasn't required to make the half hour long journey across town to the WYZT studio. The only day he wasn't required to be in the presence of the one girl who made him dry in the mouth, dizzy in the head, weak in the knees. It was the only day he wasn't required to see Amber Von Tussle.

Every single afternoon in the week, he'd arrive at the studio, barely making his way through the door, when Velma, the station manager, would begin barking orders at him. He'd follow the same routine, head to his dressing room, change into one of his dapper suits, get his hair and make-up done, and then begin preparing filming. Saturday mornings were also spent at WYZT. He, Velma, and Mr Spritzer would get together with council, planning which songs and dances were to appear in the show for the week ahead. More often than not, he'd have a couple of the council girls following him around the studio, shamelessly trying to get his attention. Most of the time he laughed it off, they were nothing but horny teenagers with stupid crushes, although he'd be lying if he said he hadn't been tempted by any of them. Brenda, for instance. She'd caught him unawares in his dressing room one night after filming, he'd been going through a pretty rough patch on the show, and needed something, someone to relieve him of the stress that had been building up inside of him all week. She was offering it to him on a plate, and seeing as she was one of the more mature, attractive girls on the show, he found it terribly hard to resist her. It was over as quickly as it had begun however, and soon after they'd finished he was picking up her various items of clothing that were scattered on his dressing room floor, urging her to leave. He didn't have any interest in cuddling, small-talk, deep and meaningfuls. She seemed to think this one-off incident had created some sort of bond between them, but to him, it was nothing but a cheap fuck. Harsh, but true. Corny didn't have time for relationships, especially with a girl almost half his age, and made a habit of picking up girls, having his wicked way with them, and then sending them on their way. Most of the women he'd slept with seemed to think they could change him, make him commit, but he was having none of it. The only girl who had the power to change him was the one who couldn't stand the sight of him.

Amber certainly was a chip off the old block. Velma had moulded and shaped her into the young woman she was today, and it was evident to anyone who knew the pair. They liked the same people, which were few and far between, they hated the same people, which were pretty much everyone else, and they both had a wicked sense of humour. And not wicked in the good way. Velma had hated Corny almost from the beginning. He was smooth and witty, and gave her a run for her money. She was used to people shutting up and taking orders from her, but The Corny Collins Show wasn't called that for nothing. He was determined to make it his own, to integrate the dancers, to give everyone of all shapes, sizes, and races a fair chance, and it was for that reason that Velma despised him. Obviously, her mini-me followed suit, and Amber was constantly looking for new ways to annoy Corny. She was always answering back to him on live TV, pushing him out of shot so she could be centre stage. She seemed to thrive on being a pest, and went out of her way to make him as uncomfortable as possible. She'd place her hand on his shoulder every now and then, _accidentally_ stumble into him, and strive to make her presence felt. What she didn't know however, is that she was failing. Failing in her attempts to make Corny see red. Failing in her attempts to make him hate her. Because every touch of her skin, every time she brushed past him and stood a little too close, was a touch of heaven to him.

It was for this reason and this reason only, that he hated Sundays. He couldn't get her out of his mind on any other day, but at least then he was able to see her, touch her, and quench his thirst for her. On Sundays, however, all he had was his imagination.

This particular Sunday was no different. He awoke at about 2pm, peeling himself out of bed and throwing on an old t-shirt, which he wore along with his boxer shorts. He made his way downstairs and into the kitchen, pulling a bowl of cereal from the kitchen cupboard and tossing some into a bowl, accompanying it with a splash of milk. He made his way into the living room and turned on the small black and white TV to see what dismal Sunday afternoon programmes were currently clogging up the schedule. He quickly grew bored of this, realising how little he had to do when he wasn't working on the show. He placed his empty cereal bowl down on a nearby table, and leaned back into the sofa, stretching and yawning, like a cat on a summer's day. He sat in the same position for a while, thinking of something, anything he could do that would hold his attention for a little longer than 10 minutes. He eyed the room he was sitting in, it didn't need cleaning. He could wash his car, but the sky looked gloomy and it was hardly worth it if it was going to rain. He closed his eyes, and let his mind wander to the previous day. They'd been practising a new dance for the upcoming Miss Teenage Hairspray pageant, and Amber was looking as irresistible as ever. She wore a simple pink dress, accompanied with a white ribbon, and her hair and makeup was immaculate. Even though they were only rehearsing, she always did her best to look presentable, and truthfully, she put the other girls to shame.

Suddenly, Corny's eyes opened. He _needed_ to get her out of his mind, it was unhealthy. The one day he had off work, the one day he could do _anything_ he wanted with his time, he was sat on his sofa daydreaming of her. He stood up, and headed upstairs to the bathroom. He switched on the shower and turned to face the mirror, studying his reflection. He ran a hand through his chocolate brown hair, ruffling it carelessly. He stood up straight and peeled off his t-shirt, throwing it into the corner of the bathroom, and followed the same action with his boxer shorts. He stepped into the shower, and the warm blast of water pummelled his skin, somewhat therapeutically. He stood like that for a while, coming to the conclusion that sitting around doing nothing was boring, and standing around doing nothing covered in water was pretty much as unstimulating. Corny eventually admitted defeat, and his mind wandered back to Amber, and the rehearsal yesterday. She was partnered with Link for this particular dance, and they were over the other side of the stage from Corny, which meant she had no opportunities to brush past him, to torment him with her touch. That was, however, until the end of the song, where she seemed to come out of nowhere and stand in front of him, pushing herself a little too forcefully into his groin. He was mentally cursing her, but at the same time he was thankful she hadn't noticed the arousal it had caused him.

Corny reached and grabbed a bottle of shower gel, rubbing it into his hands and lathering it up. He began to massage it into his body, first his arms, his neck, his chest, and his stomach. The sensations it caused, along with the hot water streaming over his body, and the thoughts of Amber smothering his mind, were too much to take, and before he knew it, he was leant against the cold, hard tiles of the shower, pleasuring himself. His hand was pumping up and down his hardness, while images of the blonde haired, blue eyed girl filled his mind. Her icy stare, the way she pouted her tender pink lips, the velvety soft touch of her skin against his. He slid further and further down the wall, letting out a small groan every now and then, all the while reliving the previous day in his mind. He'd memorised the way she'd pressed her bottom into him, and the stir it caused inside of him, almost sending him flying backwards. He remembered the devilish wink she flashed him straight after and it sent him over the edge. Corny came with a loud moan, his breath catching in his throat. He slumped at the bottom of the shower, water still cascading over him, until he'd managed to catch his breath. Soon enough, he pulled himself up and out of the shower, wrapping a towel around himself, and made his way into the bedroom. He sat on the edge of the bed, staring out of the window. The sky was turning an autumny shade of orangeish-pink, and he rubbed his eyes with his hands. He turned and stared at the dusty old clock on the wall, wishing he had the power to make those hands turn faster, the power to make it time to go to bed, the power to make it time to get up and get dressed, to make the half hour long journey across town to the WYZT studio, to be in the presence of the one girl who made him dry in the mouth, dizzy in the head, weak in the knees, to feel the heavenly touch of Amber Von Tussle.


End file.
